The Servants' Service - Chapter 1
by Recreatinglife
Summary: Who would have guessed that the beautiful music wafting down the London streets were from three homeless teenagers? The same young who lived in secret within the famous Funtom company's warehouse. But when they are discovered by the Earl himself, along with his hell of a butler, his reaction deems rather different than what anyone would have suspected.


It was a common phrase among the current generations, who grew up in a time where music progressed as quickly as a frightened heart would beat.

The part you play is a description of you.

The notes of finely tuned instruments were known to bring people together. Not only was it a form of entertainment, but it gave people a chance to explore their imaginations in a way that was considered only capable by young children. Even the most cynical of people melted their barriers for the rare soothing even a simple song could bring.

But even so, it wasn't common for street performers to throw the sounds of well placed notes into the air; the patterns progressing in a way that blended smoothly together as if professionally trained. Even more unbelievable were the ages of the three violinists, equivalent in the age of their instruments, whose varnish was fading and strings fraying from excess use.

These were children in the eyes of the public; children who should be finishing up their apprenticeship around now and looking for a decent job, such as a craftsman or laborer, which could be found down any London street and applied for with almost impossible ease. The girls should be at home, learning from their mothers the basics on how to be a good house wife, from cooking, to cleaning, to even child care.

It would seem almost frightful that the inexperienced were taking life by the side of a cobblestone street, playing intriguingly for the loose change in the pockets of a man better off. Yet, they seemed content, even joyous at their participation in life, even if that only lasted long enough to finish a few songs before sunset.

The three in question were rather different people as it was. The first two were lengthy twins, with auburn colored hair that matched and sometimes covered the fire in their simple hazel eyes. Their skin was light; the color of pale moonlight against marble; them trimmed to the point where they even seemed to be statues of perfection. Their playing was always in sync; the bows tracing against strings in feather light lines which rung out in perfect harmony.

The third of the group was a polar opposite. She seemed younger by height, long dark brown hair curled lightly; framing around her face and making her tanned skin seem light in comparison. With freckles that seemed to map celestial patterns, they rounded her cheeks and forehead as if to outline dark blue eyes which tinted red when the sun light hit them just right. Her playing was more constructed; a simple melody flowing from the wooden crevasses and creating the beat in which the twins followed with lyrical flares of creativity.

None of the trio older than 17, mild scoffs could be trailed through the admiration some citizens transmitted onto them; as if to either degrade the composition or the lifestyle choice they had acquired.

Either way, not one skeptical look arose from the performers, indulging themselves in the song too thoroughly to care of the opinions of strangers. Unless they had money to spare that is.

One of the less understanding passers-by wore a sour look, not managing to stop for what he couldn't help but think of as 'an idiotic waste of time.' As he walked his cane tapped across the stone streets, unnecessary but regal. He would be just a boy if it wasn't for the expensive overcoat he wore, the polished shoes and, of course, cane, that toppled about the streets. His eye-patch, a silky black, would have been the most interesting feature about the kid if not for the raven haired assistant by his side. With long, lanky features and skin bloodlessly pale, the butler, who wore a suit and coattails under an ebony jacket, seemed a bit amused by his master's muttering. A small smile gripped the edges of the servant's mouth as he would mutter unanswered questions such as "Master? Is there something wrong?"

Deep bluish hued hair would fall in front of the child's face as he tried his best to ignore his servant's snide remarks, not wishing to make a scene in public despite the fact that he truly didn't care what any of them thought. It wasn't until the remarks faded abruptly that the boy looked up at his butler, a dark blue eye conceiving the emotion of both annoyance and question as he finally spoke to the nearly silenced man by his side.

"What is it Sebastian?" was his simple question, his cane bouncing across the cobblestone much like a child would stomp his foot, "I have no time for your silly games."

Finally looking down, dark brown eyes connected with ocean blue, a look of seriousness crossing the previously sarcastic face of the butler referred to as Sebastian, "Bocchan, I apologies for the interruption. Please, let us continue."

"Sebastian," the boy stated again, the sense of seriousness even more relevant in his tone.

With a small sigh and a flick of his wrist, Sebastian moved a piece of dark hair out of his face, his gloved hand a white blur, "I've got an overwhelmingly strange feeling about the girl playing the violin," he finally confided, continuing as if a bit flustered, "I'm not sure exactly what though. She isn't as she appears."

"Much like you then," 'bocchan' stated, blinking as if not amused with the petty conversation, "but if it truly is a worry some problem I am willing to allow investigation. Just as long as it doesn't distract you."

"Why master," the raven like man continued, a weak rebuttal if it could even be called that much, "it isn't truly necessary."

With a sigh, the younger of the two glared up at the ebony haired man, showing his distaste for any objections to his command, "Fine then. I order you to help me investigate that girl. Does that please you?" his tone was quite maddening, almost like the growling of a baby bear demanding over a full grown lion.

"As you wish my Lord," Sebastian replied, the smile once again gracing the tips of his lips and causing the blue eyed boy to frown gently, obviously not expecting such sarcasm from a servant he had just ordered.

It wasn't until much later that this seemingly unimportant investigation was carried out; the dark butler gliding into an open study to inform his master of the work he had ordered to be conducted. Clasping to his feet with the help of an oversized desk, which was clustered with paper work and the crumbs of a thoroughly enjoyed chocolate cake, the younger glared angrily at his butler, knowing full well of the commitment he had absentmindedly made.

"Are you happy now?" an angered tone muffled through the collar of the boy's coat, allowing Sebastian to whisk him through the tall doors of the estate he was earl to and into the cold of falling night, only making the blue haired male even more irritable.

At the edge of town there stood a rather large warehouse, stocked with highly prized children's toys and the slight smell of painted wood, which wafted about the streets and alleyways whenever someone even cracked the door open an inch. Although the Funtom Campany had always issued quality merchandise, many people found it ridiculous how quality as well as quantity was mass produced in a currently middle sized market. It came to a point where toys being produced couldn't be sold on the company's demand, and many were stored away in warehouses, waiting for shops both small and large to bid on types and quantities of mass produced products.

Little knew of what else was stored within the walls of the Funtom owned property though, a small kept secret from both the company itself and the people who dwelled just outside the worn door.

"Clara! C'mon, it's getting dark and we still haven't eaten dinner yet," a light voice came from the outskirts of a building, tinted with an accent that added a certain flurry to the tone, suggesting he wasn't from proper standings as much as from common life.

The voice echoed from a body draped against the shadow of the trailing bricks, making even a silhouette hard to decipher. It seemed to shift as the words were said, lifting itself from the wall carelessly and making its way to the steady golden light of sunset.

Small puffs of smoke trialed into the sky as the words were formed, as if to add emphasis to an already demanding comment. They curled in dark patterns like the dissolving clouds in the sunset's warm gaze. Warmly colored lips twisted into a smile, auburn hair falling graciously over his eyes before being flicked away. In one hand he held a violin and bow, which rattled and hit against each other whenever a movement was made. In the other a cigarette was held casually, smoke emanating from the end in familiar whisks.

"Yeah, yeah," came a direct, albeit annoyed reply, a similar accent stringing like webs through the more feminine voice, "don't worry yourself about it. Francis is probably back already starting it up. Us getting there sooner won't make it cook faster you're aware."

Brown tinted hair sprung like ribbons as a violin case was closed with forceful hands. A female stood up at that point, pointing her bow in the direction of the male as if to make her statement more perpetual in his head.

"I just don't get it though," the boy sighed, eyes moving to catch the vision of the girl who he recognized as Clara, "we are almost the exact same person, looks, height, weight, age and all, yet he eats so much more than I and is hungry yet. It's quite frightening actually."

The silence was lightened by only the ruby accented light fluttering from a dying sunset, ribbon like hues coloring any space that wasn't shadowed and causing patterns to cascade upon the skin of the two violinists as they walked through alleyways towards a place they considered as a makeshift home. The slight sound of bow against violin was easily ignored during those silent moments, the clutter of ragged sounds never overwhelming by ears that had heard them so many times before.

When words were finally spoken, it had seemed as though the silence hadn't lasted nearly as long as it indeed had, and they fluttered from the soft mouth of the female as if the words had been puzzle pieces, meant to fit perfectly into the moment, "If we have the food to eat, let him enjoy it. We aren't spoon fed people after all; why not enjoy the fruit of our labor?"

It was quite common for them both to enjoy silence in each other's company. Neither felt spoken statements necessary; especially since anything they thought was so obviously read by the other. It was these rare moments that were most cherished, in which thinking was encouraged and minds could be let free without the fear of judgment to fit into social norms. With such processes going through ones head, it was almost as if you could convince yourself of a truth that was not widely accepted, despite the hardships of disagreeing with what others thought was definite.

It was with opinions running rampant in the stable silence that the two figures reached their place of dwelling, the sun already fleeting and giving away the look of a crescent moon, which steadily glistened silver trails and left stars to light up empty spaces. With such noiseless thought, the sound of a worn door opening for its patrons was deafening but familiar; a small comfort. But, past the door's small creaks and the hushed breath the silence ended, for the sound of crackling fire rose to reach their ears and flickering flames came to run past their vision.

"Francis! Are you insane?" came the voice of his look alike, standing in the doorway with a look of horror adorning his soft face, "this place is filled with wooden toys! You're going to catch everything on fire you imbecile!"

It was with a quick glance up that similar auburn eyes connected, one holding only vague recognition and the other of shock and anger, the latter's emotion's more fluently patterned through his eyes then the previous.

"Ay, leave 'im be Robert," Clara commented, smacking the male by her side lightly with the back of her hand against his arm, clicking her tongue loud enough to echo through the building before continuing, "it's pretty obvious that you got the brain and he the talent."

It took a few seconds for the replicas to gather together what she just said, turning to bore holes into her with their eyes and growling in time, "Ay!"

Not bothering with a reply, the dark haired girl helped empty the narrow doorway and glided towards the barely contained flames; the clicking of worn shoes almost inaudible. She peered at the flames for a second, as if they were a puzzle not easily solved, before lifting her arm to level with her shoulder. It was with a snap of fingers, which rumbled like thunder in the echoing building, that the previously lit fire was washed away, almost as if a bucket of water had doused it with vicious intent. The room darkened instantaneously, a blackness only cut short by the stars' light, which flickered through a window high enough to touch the heavens.

"And put out the cigarette while you're in the doorway," she said as an afterthought, not turning to peer at the individual left astray between inside and out, "you could cause a fire to break out just as easily with that disgusting habit."

He quickly flicked the paper rolled substance to his feet, it falling stiffly and hitting the ground without a sound, the light emanating from the end the only close spark of light. With a press of a patchwork shoe against rough ground the previously used object was smashed unceremoniously, its contents spreading across the earth with a swipe of heel.

At that moment Clara swept a lantern from seemingly nowhere, a fire just small enough to be contained carefully but large enough to allow light to flood the room blinking energetically, almost as if she were a lighthouse, beaming like a beacon to clear the shadows.

With a whimper, Francis looked down upon his ruined fire, which now consisted of a circle of black dusted gray stones and a pile of charcoaled wood, the pieces seeming to crumble when even lightly touched.

"You ruined it!" he whined childishly, kneeling down to poke at odds and ends with a long, fragile finger, before looking up with saddened eyes, which seemed to quiver on the brink of tears, at the dark haired girl, "I…it was too dark outside to cook dinner and I just thought…now how are we supposed to eat? That was the last of the wood!"

Completely unmoved, Clara bent down to look the older boy in the eyes, her expression blank but with a look of deadly strictness emanating from her aura, "We cannot afford to burn down this property. Not only is it filled with merchandise leaning into untold amounts of money but it is owned by a company owned by the Phantomhive's," she then leaned down even further, stage whispering loud enough to reach the ceiling, which leaned into the territory of being 3 stories tall, "You never know what the queen's dog might do. He's practically above the law and with that power he could kill us peasants without a thought."

"Wait, I don't get it," Robert spoke up from the doorway, arm pressed against the frame to keep himself from falling, hands in the pockets of a fraying pea coat, once black but now a fading gray, "I didn't think you could die."

Clara noticed how he completely ignored the possibility of his own fatality.

With a shrug the girl stood up once again, brushing at her knees as if the ground could possibly have dirtied them any more thoroughly than they already were, "Hell if I know," she finally concluded, giving him a grin which flickered evilly in the poor light, "there isn't really a manual depicting how I function and such. It wasn't as if my parents planned to tell me anything sooner than last minute anyways."

"Your something of a twisted fairytale," Francis spoke, tapping a finger against his sharp chin as if thinking more deeply than anyone knew he could, "ones of ghouls and goblins and monsters which lurk in the shadows. Ya'know, the scary ones."

Although he often spoke offensively without knowing, Francis was a quite innocent, if not clueless, human being. He never meant any misfortune to anyone and it was only with a mind that constantly betrayed him that he found himself conjuring up sentences that he never meant in a rude fashion.

With this knowledge in mind the dark haired girl managed to keep her anger cooled, taking in a breath before replying softly, if not for the gritted teeth she spoke through, "But I am nothing of a witch, and defiantly not a monster Francis. For god's sake I am barely fit to be called a spawn of hell."

However ironic her last statement was, Clara was still deeply aware of it, and as Francis and Robert snickered to themselves the only female in the room was half tempted to put them in their place with the 'monstrous' powers she did possess.

"So she's another one of your kind," came the hushed snicker of the 'Earl' who emphasized the 'your' as if to patronize his most trusted servant, "Are you truly so incompetent that you cannot tell your species from another?"

"I beg of you," came an unrelated answer, raven hair shadowing against skin, a shocking white contrast, "the balcony is small and the window thin, if overheard our presence will surely be recognized."

With a grimace, a sharp blue eye glared poisonously from his butler to the unfolding seen, before eyeing his servant again, "Sebastian, are you saying you couldn't handle them if they did overhear us? Are you truly incapable of such primary jobs as protecting your master?"

A reply couldn't have been made in the amount of time given, not that Sebastian truly wanted to dignify that question with an answer. His savior at that moment though was one he could live without, for it only completely murdered his ideals in staying quiet enough that no one could hear them.

"Ay, you two! By the window! We see your sneakin'! How the hell did you get up there?" came the street voice from what seemed like miles below.

The Earl looked down through the transparent glass, grimacing as he balled his hands into fists almost too childishly to be taken serious. On another occasion Sebastian might have enjoyed the sight, for his master's slight frustration always seemed to amuse the dark man. As of now though it could only make the butler even more annoyed, as he looked over upon the window just in time for a flurry of dark curls to bounce into vision.

Clara opened the window with a flick of the wrist, nimbly twisting through the slot onto the small balcony within the blink of an eye.

"Do I really have to ask again?" she smirked, breathing in as if she where smelling her pray, "or should I guess? I've got to admit, I'm pretty good at guessing if the time is right and the clues are substantial."

Without waiting for a reply Clara circled around the two intruders, looking upon them from every possible angle, catlike in manor.

"I think it would be more reasonable to assume that I should ask the questions," the eye patch clad male responded, "it is my warehouse you are living in as if you were a rat."

As if she had run into an invisible brick wall, Clara yielded, her motions suddenly ceasing right in front of the male, conveniently sandwiched by the butler at the opposite side. She took a second to let out a breath, nothing short of a soft purr, before smirking mischievously into the distance right behind the earl's head.

It happened to be one of the few pure nights around the constantly polluted city, which's air had grown thick and streets flooded with debris and infestation. But yet, from that solemn view, there was a glimpse of sea glittering past docked cargo ships, which left black shadows beneath the pale moonlight. Waves of moonlight caressed the water from every angle, leaving trails of glittering silver in its wakes and affectively calming the female from letting poison laced words fall from her lips.

Bowing heavily, allowing the mass of curls she adorned to brush the cement slightly, the girl sighed, "My father would be a rather disappointed man if he ever knew of how disrespectful I was to someone so beloved by our beautiful queen."

There was an odd change in her voice, for what was before talk as if she was a street rat, now she spoke outstandingly proper in style, the tint of accent in her voice molded to better fit a royal stature. She looked up humbly, looking directly into the one visible eye of the Earl, who seemed all but confused by her change in demeanor.

"I only have myself to blame though," she continued, slowly positioning herself back to her feet, "If I had facilitated myself as a proper housewife and had married prior I would not be living as such, nor would I be barging in upon the Earl Ciel Phantomhive's wares and property. My comrades and I are to apologies for the inconvenience. If you will think of a fitting way of punishment or price for our unforgivable behavior we will most certainly accept."

"Sebastian," the Earl, referred to as Ciel, finally announced after a moment of silence concluding the girl's speech.

With a flash of black blur the man mentioned was at the boy's side, whispering a comment into his ear and trapping it from the outside world with the use of a gloved palm.

"I see," came an icy reply once Sebastian straightened himself out again, standing with arms neatly placed at his sides, before Ceil looked directly at the girl, flashing her a stern look, "Well then I guess there is no use hiding anything. I assume you already know of my rather humble servant. You are the same breed after all," he spoke the word breed as if talking about a dog, spitting on the words.

"Breed? Earl, I surely have no clue what you are talking about," Clara replied, draping a hand loosely over her chest as if to signal a sarcastic 'me?'

Before Ciel could growl a nasty comment back at her incompetence a rustle was heard near the back window, where two figures were climbing out with considerably little grace. With a few hushed curses and a blank silence surrounding the bodies, Clara turned to tug both twins from there compromised position. Once the task was accomplished there was a heap of two giggling as if drunk and telling an inside joke nobody else understood.

This situation was soon recovered though, for as the curl adorned girl snapped her fingers a set of sparks arose from around the bunch and they were quickly to their feet, standing militarily and almost comedic in manor. She smiled softly at the compliance and ordered their obedience with unspoken words.

Turning back to the Earl she once again bowed, "My apologies once again. My company is not made up of intellectuals," she sighed, "teaching obedience isn't as easy as you would think."

"I see," Ciel replied, hiding his slight intrigue behind layers on nonchalance, "well, either way you will all need to be out of here by sunrise. I wish not to see you living around my wares ever again."

"But you can't!" Francis broke in, breaking his silence at the risk of embers at his feet, "We don't quite have anywhere else to go! You even said it yourself that we lived like rats! Do you think we would if there was somewhere other to be?"

With a grimace the icy eyed male responded, "I do not care," but at the same moment the outspoken twin was kneeling at his feet, looking up with what could only be described as puppy dog eyes, sparks lighting at his knees to no avail as Clara scoffed.

Another poisonous response would have fallen from the young noble's mouth if he had just restrained himself from looking directly at the groveling fool. With that same glance came a strike close to a mental slap, as the emerald eyes of the red haired male seemed to transform into those of a familiar character.

"Lizzy," Ciel found himself whispering under his breath, biting his lip as he realized he had spoken his thoughts out loud.

Luckily, the only figure that had heard his words was the dark servant standing by his side, who smirked at the silent comment as if to portray his master's childish nature.

The Phantomhive coughed to free the air from its thick silence, refusing to look back at the boy to his feet he spoke, "Well. I suppose I could use some competent servants, seeing as the majority of the ones I have at the second are useless fools," he cringed at the thought of shattering china, charred meats and gardens made up of dead white roses.

Sebastian seemed anything but amused by his master's idea, drowning slightly but not having the ability to interject, seeing as to how strict the Earl seemed about the offer.

"What?" the only female in the group questioned, quickly clipping off her confusion and instead fixing her statement, "Well. That is a very kind offer Earl. We would gladly accept."

Robert rolled his eyes in the background, taking to a sitting position and crossing his arms, having looked to the ground until that point. His body language could only be interpreted to that of, 'of course you would accept. Such a pet until you left you can't help but have a stable environment again.'

He was, or course, ignored, and the vague details were worked out between what was assumed to be the two leaders. The Earl had seemed eager to leave after his ordeal with the more outspoken twin, and as he ordered them to be at his estate by midmorning the next day he was already being cradled in the arms of his butler, ready to be carried home, or to whatever form of transportation was going to bring him there.

"We understand," was the only words Clara worked in before the two figures vanished within the flickering shadows, cloaking their visibility as if they had never existed to begin with.

Clara spent that night staring at the stacks of boxes that accumulated the rather large space, as if memorizing the dark silhouettes and carving them into her colorful memory like a suet stain upon white curtains. She did not sit alone for that time though. Robert stayed by her side that night, seemingly just as deep in thought as her, eyes glazed over and a grip so heavy on her arm it was as if he were his childish duplicate.

Only Francis slept upon the cold floor, nestled under a cheaply woven blanket and using his overcoat as a makeshift pillow. He gripped at spots of air throughout the night, trying to grab back at his surroundings, although otherwise he seemed peaceful and content.

"It's just the beginning of another journey," the dark haired female sighed in the utter darkness, although even then the light was starting to trickle over the waters of the ocean to soon invade the building, "and wasn't that what we were looking for?"


End file.
